Foot in Mouth
by Atypicall
Summary: General banter between S and new girl and J/D. OFC alert.


Title: Foot in Mouth  
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. Don't sue. Some language.  
Author's Note: Okay, this is an OFC alert, but I can't help it. If I don't write this I think the idea will drive me nuts. It's a sort of pointless, humor and banter piece. Have fun and please give me feedback. Thanks. I rarely write in the first person, but this seemed to warrant it, so bear with me. The thing with the soldier is pointless too, but it sets up some funny banter between Josh and Donna.  
~*~  
  
I'm in the White House. I can hardly believe it. I'm in the White House without one of those windbag tour guides and no one has tried to arrest me yet. This kicks ass. Thank God for maternity leave, and good friends like Natalie to recommend me for this job. Thank God for the opportunity to take said job and help pay for night school. Now if only I actually knew how to type.  
  
I looked about in utter awe. The inside of the White House was spectacular, so much history had taken place inside the walls. There's this tingle running up my spine at the thought of it. I glance at my watch, eight twenty-five. I have to meet my new boss, one of them anyway, in his office in less than five minutes and I still don't know exactly where Toby Ziegler's office is. I started to run, then thought it might not be appropriate and settled for a hurried walk.  
  
I still managed to be late. I am always late, no matter how early I leave or how much I pay attention to my watch, late. It's a curse. A pleasant enough secretary named Ginger found me wallowing amidst a sea of cubicles, completely lost and ushered me quickly toward Ziegler's office. Once there she knocked on the door, quickly wished me good luck and vanished behind her desk looking mildly panicked.   
  
I had no time to wonder as a clear, strident voice rang through the air. "Come in!" A man, middle aged and balding sat behind his desk, his shirt and tie already rumpled although the work day had just started. He glanced up from a sheaf of papers. Boy did he look peeved. "You're late."  
  
I felt like I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. It would have been preferable to the glare the man shot my way. "Yes sir, and I have to apologize. You see I came in, but the view and the halls, sort of, well lost you see and uh." I speak using various pointless arm motions, and I nearly unseated the man's lamp as I tried to explain.  
  
I was babbling. I tend to do that when I'm nervous, or excited or, well I do it a lot. Deep breath girl, deep breath. I shoved my hands down to my sides, willing them to stay there. "It won't happen again."  
  
Ziegler eyed me curiously, one eyebrow arched and he set down his papers. "Natalie Coleman recommended you to take her place. It's Cutter right? Chastity Cutter." He did a double take, "Chastity?"  
  
My parents were hippies. Still are actually. You wouldn't believe the torture I got for that name in high school, with my first boyfriend for that matter. They also had a really big thing for Sunny and Cher.  
  
"It was, you know parents. They were sort of..." Ziegler silenced me with a wave of his arm.  
  
"Never mind. I assume then that she told you what the job entailed, memos, running errands, retyping letters and lots of copying. You can type can't you?"  
  
"Of course I can type," I grin, hopefully keeping a straight face. Hey, searching the keyboard for prolonged moments and then punching the appropriate key counted as typing, sort of. I think I'm okay, I've always been a decent sort of liar. Of course, I'm in with the best now, politicians.  
  
I think I started to sweat then, and I know I cracked my knuckles. It's a nervous habit, one of many that I cater to. Ziegler raised that damned eyebrow again. "Water?" I nod like if I don't do it quick enough he'll withdraw the offer. He hands me a glass and I take a drink, a very long drink, draining the glass until it's about half full. Ziegler pressed his finger onto his intercom, "Ginger, send Sam in will you?"  
  
The name gets my attention. He didn't mean Sam Seaborn did he? The Deputy Communications director? Meeting both the senior and the junior Communications directors in one day is the kind of thing that really sends me into hyperdrive. Besides which, Natalie had told me that Seaborn was one of the nicest people on staff. Not to mention that he was in the running apparently, for the nicest butt on one of the senior staffers. Josh Lyman was his competition, Natalie said. I guess I'd just have to judge for myself.  
  
I was so deep in thought that I didn't notice that anyone had come in until someone cleared their throat behind me. I'm kind of a nervous person, in case you haven't already guessed, not usually this nervous but still. And I'm a klutz, not the best combination. When he cleared his throat I jumped straight out of my chair and wheeled around. Unfortunately I decided that I must look professional for my first day of work and chose to wear heels. I never wear heels. I could kill the man that invented stilettos.   
  
So the next thing I know I'm tripping, flying through the air and landing facedown on the floor. Graceful huh? Did I mention that I was still holding my drink? The glass anyway, most of the water ended up on Sam Seaborn.  
  
I roll onto my back and gaze up at Seaborn, who was in the process of wiping water from his eyes, although tiny rivulets still ran from his hair. I also suffer from foot in mouth disease. I say the first thing that comes to my mind and never seem to analyze how it might sound to someone else. "SO you're the ass?" I question. I close my eyes. That wasn't what I meant, but hell if I was going to explain it to him. Stupid, stupid shoes.  
  
"I see first impressions aren't your strong suit," he countered. I push myself off the ground and hop over to my errant piece of footwear. "Are we hiring new entertainment talent for lunch meals now Toby?" I mean it, I could kill him.  
"Nope, she's replacing Natalie Coleman." I'm not at all positive, but I think Ziegler actually tried to hide a smirk.  
  
"You must be kidding." Ziegler shook his head.  
  
"I am soooo sorry Mr. Seaborne. It's just these shoes you see," I peel one off my foot and brandish it in front of me. Maybe it looked like some sort of weapon, because at that point Seaborn backed away from me. Now I know Ziegler's trying to hide a smirk. "And well they're heels, and I don't usually, see the guy who invented these..." Could I be more of a headcase? "I'll shut up now, but I am really sorry."  
  
"For the ass comment too? For the life of me I can't think of where you came up with that one." If the ground won't open up maybe a small earthquake could occur, or maybe a small tornado inside Ziegler's office. This could not have started worse. "You're forgiven uh, Chastity? Chastity?"  
  
"Uh, uh, Sonny, Cher, my parents, long story. Just call me Cutter."  
  
"If you two wouldn't mind taking this outside?" Ziegler ushered us to the door. "I have a meeting on the hill in an hour. Show her her desk will you Sam?" The door shut firmly in our faces.  
  
"This way," Sam walked briskly through the maze of cubicles and desks to one near the back of the room. He smacked a palm down on an empty desk, "This is yours. Settle in, make yourself at home, and after that ten minutes I need you to type this up and make fifty copies. Thanks. I'd stay longer, but I need to change into a dry shirt."  
  
He left then, disappearing back the way we came. And I was left to stare at the blank screen of my newest, latest computer. The report he had left for me to type was only six pages long, hand written. Okay, so that will take me the next three hours, big deal. Now where is the on switch?  
  
--  
  
"Josh."  
  
"Donna."  
  
"Josh!" Donna inserted that extra little whine that always got Lyman's attention. At this point I have stopped copying the report that only took me two hours to type to watch this rather odd pair.  
  
"Donna."  
  
"You're ignoring me Josh."  
  
"You're right, I am."  
  
"But he's a killer Josh!"  
  
Lyman turned. "Do you think that saying my name after every sentence is going to make more of a point? Cause I gotta tell ya, it's just irritating."  
  
"He's a killer Josh. We're letting a killer into the White House, do you realize how insane that is?" Moss failed to notice CJ and a tall, blonde haired man walking toward them.  
  
"Probably less insane then me standing here listening to you right now."  
  
"That's not funny. We're letting him in here, with guns, and God knows what else to just because he got shot. A killer who probably wouldn't care if it were you or me or whoever."   
  
"Yes Donna I know. But remember, he's on our side."   
  
"And you believed that story? Come on Josh, these whackos will say anything."  
  
"He's not a whacko. Most whackos don't have the CIA to back them up."  
  
"As if that makes it any better. Tell me Joshua, has this guy ever killed anyone?"  
  
"Probably."  
  
"There, do you see now? I'm not going to be able to work around him. I'll get all tongue tied and nervous and I'll put my foot right in my mouth."  
  
"Donna, you don't even know who this guy is. And as for your foot, you do that every day anyway."  
  
"Yes, but not in front of a person who knows thirty-six different ways to kill me with their bare hands. I'll be jumpy."  
  
"That's caffeine Donna. This man has done some very good work for our government and was shot in the line. The President has seen fit to give him a medal. Am I still having this conversation?"  
  
I try not to laugh out loud. This is just too funny. The blonde woman doesn't even notice Cregg, I recognize her from TV and the tough looking blonde beside her. Cregg looks mildly horrified and the guy has this catlike grin on his face.  
  
Someone taps me on the shoulder. I, of course, start and whack the guy with my free hand. I turn and who else could it be but Sam Seaborn? My luck never changes.  
  
Sam sighs and rubs the spot where I hit him. "At least you don't have water," he says dryly. "This is my only change of shirt. Are you done with that report yet?"  
  
"Just about. But just, watch this first." He agrees and we both watch as the events unfold. This really is hysterical. By now the blonde woman has noticed Cregg and the guy.  
  
"Hi," she stuck out her hand. "I'm Donna Moss, assistant to Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman. That kind of makes me deputy, deputy huh?" She grinned.  
  
Josh groaned. "Enough with that joke! It's not funny."  
  
Donna ignored him. "And you are?"  
  
"Rolan Talbot." He grabbed Donna's hand and pumped it enthusiastically. "No one important. Just one of those killers it's insanity to let into the White House."  
  
"Eep." Donna squeaked and jumped behind Josh.  
  
Lyman laughed. "What? You think I'm going to be able to stop him if he knows thirty-six different ways to kill me with his bare hands?"  
  
"Not really, but I figure I can make a break for it while he's killing you." Moss countered.  
  
At this point I have to leave. There is no way I could stand there for another ten seconds without bursting out in the most undignified snort. Sam follows me. I grab Seaborn's elbow and lean over to whisper in his ear. "Are those two...?"  
  
"Who? Josh and Donna?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You mean like..."  
  
"Yeah like, you know..."  
  
"Together?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh. Do they even know...?"  
  
"That they're..."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"No. They're oblivious."  
  
"Too bad. They would be cute together."  
  
Seaborn started to laugh. "Unbelievable! You're not even here one day and you see it more than those two. Now, how about that report?"  
  
I hand it over to him and get ready to make my umpteenth set of apologies to this man. "All done. Sorry. I'm not usually like this, really, but I've been studying so hard for my night classes," I was talking really fast.  
"Are you drunk?" he asked. "Or high maybe?"  
  
"No, no of course not. I'm just so tired right now. I was up till two this morning working on a paper. And...you don't really care. What?" he was staring at me like I had two heads.  
  
"You're...tired?!" He asked unbelievingly.  
  
"Yeah, so?"  
  
"Well, when I'm tired, I actually get, you know tired."  
  
I felt like sticking my tongue out at him right then I really did. When I get tired I get hyper, really hyper and I start to speak like an auctioneer. "Well aren't you boring then? When I'm tired I start buzzing around like I'm on speed. Not that I would know, I've just heard." That's foot in mouth number two for the day. I'm actually running below par.  
  
"I don't do drugs, don't worry about that. And I don't drink either, I mean God, why would I? If I want to be high all I need to do is sleep for less than four hours a night and have a good caffeine buzz in the morning. Which is something I think I'll be doing a lot now that I have a job and all." It was at that point that I remembered to take a breath. "Yeah."  
  
We reached my desk then and I sat down and picked up a pen, which I began to roll along my fingers, bad habit number two. Maybe I shouldn't have sat down with Sam still standing, but it's too late now. My foot starts to tap, bad habit number three.  
  
"And exactly why did you want a job to add further stress to you life on top of being a student?"  
  
"Because student loans are a bitch, and I'm only at night school. Why in God's name I decided to major in Constitutional law is beyond me at this point. Not to mention that I'm three months behind on my rent. My roommate got married, which you know, is great for her and I thought I had a guy lined up to replace her. I figured you know, it's the 21 century so what's wrong with a guy roommate. Well, the day before he was supposed to move in he got arrested, for rape of all things. Can you believe that, rape? I swear I only attract the kooks and weirdos. I've seriously considered taking an ad out in the paper. 'hey, you a rapist, stalker or general nut? Call me cause we're bound to meet eventually.' What do you think?"  
  
"You're going to be a lawyer?"  
  
It seemed odd to me that of all the things I just said that is what he got stuck on. "Yeah. Well this other girl, I don't remember her name dropped off something else for me to type, so I had better do that now unless there's something else."  
  
"I don't think so, but I'll ask Toby." He looked at me strangely. "What?"  
  
"Toby frightens me."  
He laughed then, a nice, warm laugh. "Toby has that influence on the general populace. But you get used to him. I'll leave you to your work then." He started to leave, but paused and turned. "And Cutter?" I look up at him. "I think you're going to fit in around here just fine.  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
